


Tomorrow Is For Living

by cosmosmariner



Series: Distant Voices 'Verse [11]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Death from Old Age, Multi, Old Age, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosmariner/pseuds/cosmosmariner
Summary: For Jacob, life goes on, even when it's falling apart at the seams.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In memory of Robert Vaughn, who brought Napoleon Solo to life.

November, 2016

The little house, so warm, so full of love, was filled with people. But empty. Empty today of all days because the joy that filled it, warmed it, light it from inside was gone.

Pauline was old. She had lived a full, rich, marvelous life. And as she moved from grace to grace, her tawny hair became streaked with grey and her skin became wrinkled and crepey, but her smile and her laughter was evident. Her generosity still as boundless as ever. She went to sleep, and never woke up. Anne had found her the next day, still cuddled in her thick blanket.

The ceremony had been simple. Pauline wasn’t much for ceremony. That was one thing she and Illya had always bonded over; not making a huge fuss over every little thing in life. Jacob, and Napoleon as well, were much more demonstrative than they were. While they enjoyed the extra care, it wasn’t something that they needed. But for Jacob and Napoleon, it was a show of their love, so they both allowed it.

It was hard for Illya to get around these days; his knees were bad, as well as his back. There were days when he needed a cane to get to the kitchen. Napoleon was almost as bad with his hip, but even in their old age, vanity was still very much evident. No walkers, no wheelchairs. If they went a little slowly, it was a privilege earned by virtue of them being the elder statesmen of their little tribe.

But now that tribe was in mourning, and missing a part of it, the very heart of it.

The university had sent over a beautiful potted plant to the funeral. Pauline had worked there for almost forty years and had helped grow the Slavic Studies department. Many more friends and neighbors sent along their well wishes and love, and now the family was alone in the house that she had once called home for so many years, Jacob’s home now. Jacob, Jenny, and baby Emily were sitting in the living room, while Thomas and his wife helped Anne and Illya in the kitchen.

Anne called out to her husband. “Jacob, would you like me to bring you anything?”

“No, dear,” he said. He wiped tears from his eyes as he thought about his mother. He was barely a teenager when his dad passed away. His mother did the best she could, was both mother and father to him. And when Illya came into the picture, he and his mother were so thankful, and grateful.

Now, his mother, his one lifelong companion, was gone. Every day, he noticed Doc and Pasha growing weaker and older as well. Soon, he would be the old man in the family, and Jenny and Tommy’s children would be one day sitting in this room crying about the loss of their grandmother the same as Jenny and Tommy were crying.

But Jacob could hear his mother in his mind. _I’ve lived a good life, son. I raised a good man. And the best thing you can do for me is to continue to live the way I wanted you to, and be the person I always thought you were._

He got up and walked outside for a moment.

The air was crisp. There was a bit of a chill in the air, but he welcomed it. The boards on the porch creaked a little; he wanted to see if Jenny could bring home one of her friends to help him nail everything down again.

The door squeaked as it opened. Sighing, Jacob put WB-40 on his mental list of things to do. Life went on, even when it was falling apart at the seams.

A cool hand brushed against his. It was Doc. No words were exchanged, only a glance from a watery blue eye and a nod, as if to say, “It will be all right.”

In that moment, Jacob hugged the man who, for more than half of his life, had been there when he had so few people to depend on. A man whose strength and courage had given him so much, a man who one day would be gone as his mother was.

But that day was not now.

Jacob took Illya’s hand as they watched the stars twinkle over Smithton. Today was for mourning, but tomorrow was for living.


End file.
